zellephantom (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
zellephantom) wrote2018-12-10 01:26 pm
zellephantom) wrote2018-12-10 01:26 pm
Entry tags:
Phantom Thoughts pt. 10
Double digits! (And yet we're only just starting chapter 3. Oh, well- I have a lot of thoughts.)
{A few of the dancers had already changed into ordinary dress; but most of them wore their skirts of gossamer gauze; and all had thought it the right thing to put on a special face for the occasion: all, that is, except little Jammes, whose fifteen summers—happy age!—seemed already to have forgotten the ghost and the death of Joseph Buquet. She never ceased to laugh and chatter, to hop about and play practical jokes, until Mm. Debienne and Poligny appeared on the steps of the foyer, when she was severely called to order by the impatient Sorelli.}
Little Jammes is one of my favorite book-only characters (my favorite is the Persian, obviously). She's just so delightful in spite of everything going on around her. And Sorelli keeps the ballet girls in line, as usual. (She seems to care more for her underlings than Carlotta does, even though she can be a little strict at times in order to maintain order.)
{Everybody remarked that the retiring managers looked cheerful, as is the Paris way. None will ever be a true Parisian who has not learned to wear a mask of gaiety over his sorrows and one of sadness, boredom or indifference over his inward joy.}
Ah, yes- repressing your true feelings for the sake of appearing happy all the time! It's the Paris way! (No offense to any Parisians who may be reading this.)
{In Paris, our lives are one masked ball}
Excellently fitting for the themes of this novel, but probably not emotionally healthy in the long term.
{an exclamation from that little madcap of a Jammes broke the smile of the managers so brutally that the expression of distress and dismay that lay beneath it became apparent to all eyes:
"The Opera ghost!"
Jammes yelled these words in a tone of unspeakable terror; and her finger pointed, among the crowd of dandies, to a face so pallid, so lugubrious and so ugly, with two such deep black cavities under the straddling eyebrows, that the death's head in question immediately scored a huge success.}
I admit, I had to look up what lugubrious meant. (It means looking sad or dismal, for the record.)
Is the notorious P. of the O. actually sad to see the old managers go? (Or does he know that the new managers won't be so easily cowed?)
{Everybody laughed and pushed his neighbor and wanted to offer the Opera ghost a drink, but he was gone. He had slipped through the crowd; and the others vainly hunted for him, while two old gentlemen tried to calm little Jammes and while little Giry stood screaming like a peacock.}
"Oh, haha, it's our old friend, the resident Opera Ghost! Let's offer him a drink!" is a very strange first reaction, I have to say.
And I have heard peacocks scream in person. Let me tell you, it is not pleasant. (Also rather frightening to small children, which is what I was at the time.)
{Here they found the new managers, M. Armand Moncharmin and M. Firmin Richard, whom they hardly knew; nevertheless, they were lavish in protestations of friendship and received a thousand flattering compliments in reply}
That's.. nice. (Probably not very genuine, but a nice gesture. Flattery! It's the Paris way! jk)
{And those little keys, the object of general curiosity, were being passed from hand to hand, when the attention of some of the guests was diverted by their discovery, at the end of the table, of that strange, wan and fantastic face, with the hollow eyes, which had already appeared in the foyer of the ballet and been greeted by little Jammes' exclamation: "The Opera ghost!"
There sat the ghost, as natural as could be, except that he neither ate nor drank. Those who began by looking at him with a smile ended by turning away their heads, for the sight of him at once provoked the most funereal thoughts. No one repeated the joke of the foyer, no one exclaimed: "There's the Opera ghost!"
He himself did not speak a word and his very neighbors could not have stated at what precise moment he had sat down between them; but every one felt that if the dead did ever come and sit at the table of the living, they could not cut a more ghastly figure. The friends of Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin thought that this lean and skinny guest was an acquaintance of Debienne's or Poligny's, while Debienne's and Poligny's friends believed that the cadaverous individual belonged to Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin's party.}
Do they really have nothing better to do at this fancy dinner than pass around keys? "Ooh, it's a key- I wonder what it does!" "WE ALL KNOW WHAT KEYS DO, BRIDGETTE. NOW GIVE THEM HERE."
Also did Erik seriously just crash a party for the sheer awkwardness he knew it would cause? Because I can totally see him doing that. Imagine trying to make small talk with a guy who won't say or eat anything and looks more like a cadaver than a living being (I'm assuming he wasn't wearing a mask? but I could be wrong). (And Erik, sweetie, you need to eat something or else you'll waste away! Turn into a skeleton, even!)
{the ghost had no nose and the person in question had}
Oh, wait, he's at least wearing a false nose. Also, after this is a short tangent about the realistic qualities of false noses, which I shall skip as it probably does not interest any of you or myself.
{A few of the dancers had already changed into ordinary dress; but most of them wore their skirts of gossamer gauze; and all had thought it the right thing to put on a special face for the occasion: all, that is, except little Jammes, whose fifteen summers—happy age!—seemed already to have forgotten the ghost and the death of Joseph Buquet. She never ceased to laugh and chatter, to hop about and play practical jokes, until Mm. Debienne and Poligny appeared on the steps of the foyer, when she was severely called to order by the impatient Sorelli.}
Little Jammes is one of my favorite book-only characters (my favorite is the Persian, obviously). She's just so delightful in spite of everything going on around her. And Sorelli keeps the ballet girls in line, as usual. (She seems to care more for her underlings than Carlotta does, even though she can be a little strict at times in order to maintain order.)
{Everybody remarked that the retiring managers looked cheerful, as is the Paris way. None will ever be a true Parisian who has not learned to wear a mask of gaiety over his sorrows and one of sadness, boredom or indifference over his inward joy.}
Ah, yes- repressing your true feelings for the sake of appearing happy all the time! It's the Paris way! (No offense to any Parisians who may be reading this.)
{In Paris, our lives are one masked ball}
Excellently fitting for the themes of this novel, but probably not emotionally healthy in the long term.
{an exclamation from that little madcap of a Jammes broke the smile of the managers so brutally that the expression of distress and dismay that lay beneath it became apparent to all eyes:
"The Opera ghost!"
Jammes yelled these words in a tone of unspeakable terror; and her finger pointed, among the crowd of dandies, to a face so pallid, so lugubrious and so ugly, with two such deep black cavities under the straddling eyebrows, that the death's head in question immediately scored a huge success.}
I admit, I had to look up what lugubrious meant. (It means looking sad or dismal, for the record.)
Is the notorious P. of the O. actually sad to see the old managers go? (Or does he know that the new managers won't be so easily cowed?)
{Everybody laughed and pushed his neighbor and wanted to offer the Opera ghost a drink, but he was gone. He had slipped through the crowd; and the others vainly hunted for him, while two old gentlemen tried to calm little Jammes and while little Giry stood screaming like a peacock.}
"Oh, haha, it's our old friend, the resident Opera Ghost! Let's offer him a drink!" is a very strange first reaction, I have to say.
And I have heard peacocks scream in person. Let me tell you, it is not pleasant. (Also rather frightening to small children, which is what I was at the time.)
{Here they found the new managers, M. Armand Moncharmin and M. Firmin Richard, whom they hardly knew; nevertheless, they were lavish in protestations of friendship and received a thousand flattering compliments in reply}
That's.. nice. (Probably not very genuine, but a nice gesture. Flattery! It's the Paris way! jk)
{And those little keys, the object of general curiosity, were being passed from hand to hand, when the attention of some of the guests was diverted by their discovery, at the end of the table, of that strange, wan and fantastic face, with the hollow eyes, which had already appeared in the foyer of the ballet and been greeted by little Jammes' exclamation: "The Opera ghost!"
There sat the ghost, as natural as could be, except that he neither ate nor drank. Those who began by looking at him with a smile ended by turning away their heads, for the sight of him at once provoked the most funereal thoughts. No one repeated the joke of the foyer, no one exclaimed: "There's the Opera ghost!"
He himself did not speak a word and his very neighbors could not have stated at what precise moment he had sat down between them; but every one felt that if the dead did ever come and sit at the table of the living, they could not cut a more ghastly figure. The friends of Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin thought that this lean and skinny guest was an acquaintance of Debienne's or Poligny's, while Debienne's and Poligny's friends believed that the cadaverous individual belonged to Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin's party.}
Do they really have nothing better to do at this fancy dinner than pass around keys? "Ooh, it's a key- I wonder what it does!" "WE ALL KNOW WHAT KEYS DO, BRIDGETTE. NOW GIVE THEM HERE."
Also did Erik seriously just crash a party for the sheer awkwardness he knew it would cause? Because I can totally see him doing that. Imagine trying to make small talk with a guy who won't say or eat anything and looks more like a cadaver than a living being (I'm assuming he wasn't wearing a mask? but I could be wrong). (And Erik, sweetie, you need to eat something or else you'll waste away! Turn into a skeleton, even!)
{the ghost had no nose and the person in question had}
Oh, wait, he's at least wearing a false nose. Also, after this is a short tangent about the realistic qualities of false noses, which I shall skip as it probably does not interest any of you or myself.